The Other Amanda

“You are…the best, Jonathan.”

The words made him smile. The nurse laughed out loud somewhere behind her, but she looked only at Jonathan. His smile was infectious, crinkling his eyes at the corners and slashing deep dimples in his cheeks. She wanted to share that smile, so she attempted one herself. Pain stabbed through her face.

“Hurts.”

“Amanda, don’t try to smile.” His angel face hardened. Suddenly he was just a man. “You have a plate on your nose and wires in your jaw and in your mouth. Don’t let that worry you. You’re going to be fine.”

“Why?” She suddenly realized it hurt to talk, but she had to know why. Why did she hurt?

He bent over her, and a wave of dark hair fell over his eyes. He tossed his head to clear the stray lock away. She could smell him; his masculinity permeated the scent of lime aftershave.

“I want you to rest now. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Can’t close my…eyes.” Every word she forced out through her lips brought pain. “The darkness…”

“No more darkness. I promise.”

Despite her pain and fear, she believed him without question. She looked into his eyes, trusting that whatever he told her was true.

“You’ll just sleep. And when you wake up, your aunt and uncle will be here.”

Aunt and uncle? Pain centered at her temples in deep, hot throbs.

“You won’t have to talk to the police about the night of the attack until you’re feeling a lot better.”

Police? Attack? She stared up at him, trying to hold back her rising panic. The throbbing in her head spread down her body. She didn’t understand his words.

She knew so much about this world. She knew what a hospital was, what a doctor and a nurse did. She knew an aunt and uncle were members of a family. She understood those things. But police? Attack? She sensed that these words should make her afraid.

Jonathan was turning to go. He was going to leave her.

“Please.”

But even he couldn’t stem this rising tide of fear. It washed over her as she struggled with all this new information, trying to fit the pieces together.

The nurse came and looked at her. There was no comfort in her eyes.

She struggled against her doubts. Nothing fit. She believed him, but nothing he said made any sense. She tried to think of something else. There was nothing. Nothing in her mind. Her past was as dark as the oblivion she had drifted in for so long; black and empty and forever.

The only concrete images she could conjure up were of him—Jonathan.

“Please.” She tried again.

“Amanda?” He turned back to her, just as she wanted him to. “Are you in pain?” His forehead creased, and the light disappeared from his eyes.

Physical pain she understood. It defined her whole being in this new world. It was meaningless compared to her rising terror.

She didn’t have one tangible memory about herself. About what had happened to her before she’d opened her eyes and saw Jonathan looking down at her.

Amanda. He called her that, so it must be her name.

But she couldn’t remember what she looked like. Did she have dark hair like him or fair hair like the nurse? What color were her eyes?

She couldn’t remember what she was like. Was she kind and good like Jonathan? If so, why would someone attack her? And someone must have. That much she understood. Had she made someone angry? How?

Who loved her?

Who hated her?

“I’m afraid.” Her whisper tumbled out, turning into a sob that echoed against the stark white walls.

“Bonnie.” The quiet word sent the nurse out of the room. She felt the bed shift as Jonathan sat beside her. He covered her right fist with one of his hands. It was large, with strong yet sensitive fingers. It felt warm and comforting.

“Amanda, I won’t lie to you. There was severe damage to your face from the beating.” His fingers tightened around her hand. “But I promise that when you’re fully healed, you’ll be as beautiful as ever.” His eyes seemed to dissolve into a kaleidoscope of jeweled colors. They pierced through her, leaving behind a strange burning sensation in her chest.

“I’m not afraid about my face.” How could she be? It would be a new face for her. She had no sense of how she looked.

“Then why are you afraid? Is it the attack in the park?”

Again he squeezed her hand. Now she understood he did it to make sure she believed what he said.

“You’re safe here. The police will find the person who did this to you. He’ll be punished, then you can put this all behind you.”

Panic screamed through her aching body. First he reassured her, then he confused her. She knew she could trust him, but not all those other people, not all those other things. If he promised she would heal completely, she believed him. But the other things: the attack, the police, the family. These she didn’t fully understand. She couldn’t make them fit into the puzzle that was her life no matter how hard she tried.

An awakening instinct warned her to hide her fear. Maybe the emptiness inside her would fill up with all the pieces she needed. Until then she was alone.

Alone.

Somehow she knew she didn’t want to be alone. Not anymore.

The only memory she possessed was of looking into Jonathan’s eyes and being able to breathe, of finding comfort and reassurance. She clung to the recollection, balling both her hands into fists.

“I’m afraid because…because…I can’t remember anything. About myself. About my past.”

She unfurled one fist, her fingers desperately searching out his as she willed him to understand.

“The only memory I have is you.”

CHAPTER TWO

SHOCK JOLTED THROUGH HIM like a current of electricity, wrapping itself around his veins and arteries, reaching into every part of his body. This was an Amanda he’d never known. Terror blazed out of her blue eyes—terror at the extent of her isolation and a vulnerability—that made her strangely appealing.

He lowered his voice to a gentle tone he rarely used and hardly recognized. “Tell me everything you can remember.”

“You. All I remember is you.” Her whisper broke into a sob. “I was…was struggling to breathe. Helpless. Alone. Dying.” A deep sob shuddered through her. He felt it in her fingers as she gripped his hand. “Suddenly you were there, surrounded by a bright light, and the pain went away. You told me I was safe.” She took a deep, shaking breath. “You told me that you’d…help me.”

Her fingers trembled. Their weak plea compelled him to fold her hand between his palms, warming it.

What the hell had happened?

Both surgeries, his and Johnson’s, had been wildly successful given the extent of her injuries. They’d agreed to induce a comatose state for one week to keep her quiet, to allow her time to heal. It shouldn’t have affected her this way!

He’d hoped they were home free, that there’d be no complications. He’d hoped she would just be another case to him. The Amanda he remembered, all arrogant confidence, would recover quickly and just as quickly leave with her doting aunt and uncle. He would remain her doctor. A pleasant memory from her past. Not this. She was going to need a lot more help than he could give her.

“Please, Jonathan.” Tears welled in her eyes, spilling. over and spiking her lashes before gliding down her cheeks. She tried to raise a fist to scrub them away and winced with pain as the IV needle pressed into her skin. “Please…help me. I’m so scared.”

Indecision, doubt in his ability as a surgeon had never troubled him, but this situation was clearly outside his realm of expertise. As gently as possible, he pulled away from her. It was time to be a professional.

“I’ll get Dr. Johnson.” He crossed to the door, turning at the last moment, compelled by feelings he’d thought long dead. “I meant what I said. You’re safe here and I’ll help you.”

He found Bonnie hovering outside the door. “I’ve paged Dr. Johnson three times. He should be here soon.”

“Yeah, thanks, Bonnie.” He grinned sheepishly, knowing he’d been short-tempered and demanding lately. Amanda’s case, Amanda herself, had thrown him a real curve, more than he wanted to admit, even to himself.

Waiting for Carl Johnson, he paced the corridor outside Amanda’s room like an expectant father. This was Johnson’s field; he’d know what to do. Even so, Jonathan didn’t like this feeling of helplessness.

“Something has happened to Amanda. Tell me at once!” Randall’s hoarse cry drew curious looks from nearby staff. They all knew Randall Chambers as a tower of strength who never got rattled.

“It’s all right, Randall. Amanda’s awake at last. I’ve just sent for Dr. Johnson to assess her status.”

A smile of relief burst across Randall’s ruddy face. “Thank God. And thank you, Jonathan.” Randall leaned forward and clasped his shoulder in a fierce, emotional grip that surprised him. “I must phone Margaret right away. I can hardly believe that the one night we left for a few hours, Amanda woke up. Did she ask for us? May I see her?”

“Sorry. Not until Dr. Johnson clears it.” Jonathan understood what Randall was going through, but he had to do what was best for his patient. “Go call your wife.” There was no point in telling Randall about this new complication until he had all the information.

Jonathan stopped in midstride and muttered under his breath, “Where the hell are you, Carl?”

“Right here. Sorry, buddy. I was in surgery.” Sighing, Johnson rubbed his neck above his sweatstained green scrubs. “What’s up?”

“Amanda Braithwaite is awake.”

“Hey, that’s great!” Johnson gave a bark of pleased laughter. “All the neurological tests I’ve run the past week have been golden, just like I told you.”

“Uh-huh. She has amnesia.”

It took a full twenty seconds for Johnson to absorb Jonathan’s curt announcement. Then he rolled his eyes. “Let’s take a look at her.”

She looked small, lost in an avalanche of white sheets and bandages. Jonathan resisted the urge to go to her and take her hand. What was happening to his professional detachment? He let Johnson take over, and stood back against the wall, trying not to respond to her fear as Carl pulled a chair close to the side of her bed.

“Hi, Amanda. I’m Dr. Carl Johnson. I performed surgery on you the night you were brought in. You’re doing just great, but I want to help you some more. Let’s have you stand beside the bed now.” Johnson laughed low in his throat, as if he were sharing a private joke. “You know hospitals. We never let you rest.”

Dr. Johnson gestured her up, not helping, yet close enough to catch her if she faltered. Jonathan couldn’t keep himself from lunging forward to maneuver the IV pole out of her way, fighting to stay back when she struggled to keep her narrow white feet under her. This was Johnson’s examination. He had to butt out.

“A little balance problem, Amanda?” Dr. Johnson’s mouth curled reassuringly. “That’s normal.”

“Yes…I…I feel dizzy.”

Dr. Johnson finally stepped forward and helped her back onto the bed. Over his shoulder, her eyes sought Jonathan’s approval. He smiled encouragingly but waited for Johnson’s next move.

“Don’t worry about it. We expect a little dizziness. Can you tell me about the night of the accident, Amanda?”

She looked confused. Finally she replied, “No. I…don’t know anything about an accident.”

“All right.” Dr. Johnson made her answer seem perfectly natural. “Listen, what would you like for dinner? We want you to be happy here.”

“I don’t know what I like. I can’t seem to remember. All I know is Jonathan.”

Johnson threw him a look that made him squirm inside. “All right. Don’t worry about it for now. Jonathan and I are going to go outside for a few minutes.”

She huddled under the sheets, looking at Jonathan with tortured eyes. “You’ll come back?”

“Yes. I promise.” Shocked at the rough edge of emotion he heard in his voice, he pulled the door shut behind him forcefully. The automatic brake caught it, closed it gently, pushing the air into the corridor on a sigh, mirroring his own feelings.

Johnson frowned. “We’ve got problems. Better call in someone from the traumatic brain injury unit.”

Jonathan braked his inappropriate emotions. They had no place in what had to be done. “I’ll get Patrick Newman down here. He’s the best psychiatrist in the state.”

It didn’t take Newman five minutes to respond. They briefed him while he nodded. Jonathan had questions, but Pat waved him away.

“Let me do my job, fellas.” He turned to enter the room as Jonathan stepped forward. “Alone.”

IT WASN’T JONATHAN. She was disappointed, but tried not to show it. The stranger wore the same white coat over his clothes as Jonathan and Dr. Johnson, so he must be a doctor, too, she reasoned, feeling pleased with herself.

“Where’s Jonathan?” she couldn’t help asking. This doctor was different somehow. His eyes were…kind.

“Jonathan will be in soon. I’m Dr. Newman. Jonathan sent me to ask you some questions about your past.”

“I don’t know anything,” she said, confused that they didn’t understand her, or maybe they just didn’t believe her. They could ask all the questions they wanted, it wouldn’t help. Her past was a dark tunnel broken only by the bright light that had brought Jonathan to her.

“Do you know your name?”

His gentleness persuaded her to try again. Of course she should know her name! “Everyone calls me Amanda.”

“How old are you, Amanda?”

She struggled. Panic, like a storm in her brain, threatened to send her out of control. “I…I don’t know.”

“Tell me something you do know.” He ignored her panic, remaining calm and reassuring.

“Jonathan helped me. He was surrounded by…by a white light. Then the darkness came. And the voices.”

He smiled down at her. “Good. Tell me about the voices.”

“I heard Jonathan. And…and other voices.”

“Did you recognize the other voices like you recognized Jonathan’s?”

Her head pounded as she tried to find something in the darkness, just one tangible memory. “No. Please. This makes my head hurt.”

“You did well, Amanda.” Dr. Newman patted her arm.

“Can Jonathan come in now?” She felt alone and afraid without him. The dark emptiness in her head was terrifying.

“Yes. I’ll send Jonathan to you.”

She sighed. As nice as this doctor seemed, he wasn’t Jonathan. She sank back into her pillow, willing the tension to recede.

IT SEEMED FOREVER to Jonathan before Pat Newman came out of Amanda’s room. “Well, what’s the verdict?”

“I need to do a whole range of tests over the next several days for a complete assessment. However, she appears to be suffering from autobiographical memory loss, atypical in these cases. However, it does occur.” Newman seemed to evaluate him. “You’re going to have to be very careful, Jonathan. She remembers nothing before you on the night she came into ER. She’s developing a very strong attachment, which for the sake of her mental health we can’t sever, but we can’t let her grow too dependent on you. She wants to see you now, in fact.”

Newman searched his face, all business. “Can you handle this?”

“Of course.” Jonathan rubbed his face with both hands, trying to disguise his feelings. “I’ve dealt with the doctor-patient thing before.”

Except his other patient hadn’t been so terrified and so alone, or evoked such provocative memories. Every time he looked at Amanda, a knife twisted in his gut. Would the beautiful, sensual, headstrong woman he had once cared for ever return?

“Doctor Newman!” Margaret Chambers, with Randall in tow, headed toward them.

Jonathan looked to Newman for guidance.

“She’s not ready to see them.” Dr. Newman squared his shoulders. “They’ll only confuse her more.”

“You know Randall. He’ll insist on it. C’mon. We’d better all talk to them.” Carl moved purposefully down the corridor to intercept them.

“Pat, you help Carl stall as long as possible. I’ll try to prepare Amanda.”

She was lying still, her eyes wide, then her fingers began pleating the sheet. Careful not to get too close, trying to walk that thin line between doctor and friend, Jonathan stayed at the end of her bed.

“Jonathan!” she gasped, as if she’d been holding her breath until he returned. The soft trembling of her voice begged for reassurance. A tear trickled down one cheek.

“Amanda, everything will work itself out.” He spoke briskly, professionally. “You don’t have to be afraid. Dr. Johnson, Dr. Newman and the rest of the staff are here to help you. I’m only the plastic surgeon. To get you well, we’ll need lots of help.”

“I’m sorry.” A deep sigh rippled through her body. “It’s just that to me you’re the only real thing in this world. To make any sense out of the rest of it, I have to have a…a lifeline. For me that’s…you.” With a quiet sob, she turned her face away.

Could he handle this? The power she offered him could have enormous consequences. Could he forget the past? Treat her like any other patient? Ruthlessly he switched off all the red lights flashing in his head.

“I understand, Amanda. But your family is here, and they’re very anxious to see you. They’ve been here every day just waiting for you to wake up. I know you don’t remember them, and they may seem a bit intimidating at first, but your aunt and uncle love you and want to help you.”

She raised her head, frightened but determined, and very, very vulnerable.

He couldn’t resist. “Don’t worry, I’ll stay with you. We’ll do this together.”

Her grateful response triggered something he thought had died a long time ago. Without warning, memories rushed over him. The taste of her mouth. The feel of her body under his. The passionate abandon they’d shared that summer.

“I don’t remember my family. Will they think I’m crazy?”

“You’re definitely not crazy.” Was that why she seemed so fragile? Why hadn’t Newman reassured her? “There’s nothing wrong with you that can’t be fixed with a little time. Now close your eyes and rest.”

Like a trusting child, she obeyed him, and that small action tore at his heart. Maybe, just maybe, he couldn’t handle this after all. Pausing at her bedside, he critically assessed the healing process. He’d remove the gauze wrap tomorrow, the wires and metal plate next week. She’d have bruising and swelling to deal with for a time, and the hair would grow out where they’d shaved her. He was used to dealing with the transient consequences of traumatic reconstructive surgery. But repairing her memory, the essence of who she was, was out of his hands. He hoped to God that loss would be as temporary.

“I KNOW THE DIFFERENCE between semantic and episodic memory. Dr. Johnson. I was a nurse in this hospital before you were out of med school! So what does this have to do with my niece?”

Jonathan entered a conference room fraught with frustration. Apparently Carl Johnson had been trying to explain Amanda’s condition to the Chambers with little success.

“You are deliberately keeping us from our own flesh and blood. Do I need to call a lawyer?” Margaret Chambers had the polished confidence of a beautiful, mature woman. A woman who was sorely tried at the moment. Randall sat with his head down, wringing his hands, apparently overcome with emotion.

Jonathan intervened. “Your niece is resting, which is most important to her recovery. I’m sure Dr. Johnson and Dr. Newman are only trying to prepare you so you’ll be able to assist in that recovery.”

Randall looked up, a hopeful light in his eye. “It’s not irreparable, then?”

“Actually, I think you’ll be pleased. Carl did an excellent job with the hematoma, allowing me to operate before a lot of swelling set in. In fact, Margaret, her bone structure will be restored to the perfection of your own.” He’d dealt with hysterical relatives before.

“We aren’t deliberately keeping you from her, Mrs. Chambers.” Pat Newman jumped into the fray. “I’m her psychiatrist….”

“Yes. Yes.” She shook her head dismissively. “But why does she need a specialist in physical medicine and rehabilitation like you? What has happened since we were here last?”

Randall reached over to pat his wife’s hand. “Margaret, let the doctors explain.”

“She’s awake—” Dr. Johnson stared into Margaret’s pale face “—but Amanda is suffering from some memory loss.”

Margaret gasped and shrank against her husband. Jonathan had the impression that the only thing holding her together was the strength in Randall’s arms.

“Is it permanent?”

“Most probably not.” Johnson looked as if he meant business. “However, for the moment, Dr. Newman believes her personal memories are completely gone.”

“She doesn’t remember us?” Shock registered on Randall’s face.

“I don’t believe she does, Mr. Chambers. I’m sorry.”

Randall buried his head in his hands. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Margaret waved away any attempt at reassurance. “Is this a complication from the surgery?”

The tone in her voice drew a quick response from Johnson. “No. All her neurological tests have been normal. I would have told you if I’d seen any indication of this.”

“Autobiographical memory loss is highly unusual in this type of case. If, as Dr. Johnson feels, it is not caused by the neuro-trauma, it might have other causes. That’s why I’ve been called in to consult.” Pat Newman spoke quietly and confidently. “In many cases like this memory returns gradually over a month or two, but the patient never recovers the moments of the attack. We believe it’s a defense mechanism to spare the recurrence of pain and suffering. In any case, I won’t know without more testing.” Newman stood, as if the whole problem were settled.

“I want to take her home to The Lodge as soon as possible.” Margaret insisted. “She’ll get better there. She loves the lake. Tell them, Randall!”

Pale-faced, Randall looked from his distraught wife to each doctor. “I agree with Margaret. At The Lodge, my wife and I can attend to her every need My mother, who adores her, will be there. All of her own things are there. Surely that will help to restore her memory?”

“Yes. You are correct. Those things will all be important in her recovery. However, she can’t leave the hospital without some rehabilitation.” Pat Newman glanced around the room.

“Amanda has badly sprained wrists and is experiencing dizziness. I need to do some more tests.” Dr. Johnson, too, was adamant.

“Besides, she needs time to get to know you before you take her away. She’ll be afraid to leave me and the hospital.” Jonathan wanted to get his point across. Amanda couldn’t be taken anywhere. Not yet.

Randall’s head jerked up, “What do you have to do with this, Jonathan?”

“Dr. Taylor saw her when she first came into ER. She was conscious and he spoke to her. He is all she remembers.” Dr. Johnson’s announcement caused a stunned silence in the room.

“She’s very vulnerable right now. And frightened of everything and everyone but me.” Jonathan tried another tack. “It will be much easier on her if you go slowly.”

Pat Newman pulled his glasses out of his pocket and jammed them on impatiently. “This needless wrangling isn’t getting us anywhere. It’s important that Amanda not have to deal with any additional stress right now.”

“What do you have to say, Jonathan?” Randall’s hoarse voice echoed in the room. “Will you have time to assist Dr. Newman and Dr. Johnson with Amanda, given your heavy caseload?”

“Can you help my niece?” Margaret’s unwavering stare challenged him.

He gave one brief thought to his heavy schedule and dismissed it. “Amanda believes I can help her. That’s half the battle.” He turned to Newman. “As soon as Dr. Johnson agrees, she can move upstairs to rehab and your care. I can do my post-op anywhere.”

Johnson nodded and glanced around at each of them. “Then it’s agreed, Mr. and Mrs. Chambers? Dr. Newman will take over Amanda’s care. You should visit her now with Dr. Taylor. We’ll keep him informed, and he will give Amanda as much time as we feel is helpful for her complete recovery.”